1396 AD
The Emperor is dead.
The thought fills me with sorrow and grief at the loss of such a powerful Basileus, an Emperor that pushed the borders of the empire further towards our ancestral homeland, towards the ancient city that founded the empire we now serve that he so much desired, to restore dream of the Emperor Justinian and restore the empire that once was and will be, and anger at the impotency I feel at having failed in my duty as his lifeward, bodyguard and servant to him. I have stood outside his chambers, along with my comrade for hours to ensure his councilors, dignitaries and members of the Imperial Court concluded the affairs of the late sovereign and finished the rites of preparing his body for transportation back to Constantinople, where all the Emperors were laid to rest upon their passing.
We all knew it was inevitable, the outcome decided the moment the buboes showed themselves upon his hearty countenance after taking the fortress of Palermo from the Sicilian dogs that resisted our rightful conquest. We entered the city after defeating the forces that arrayed themselves against us outside the bastion and discovered that the hellish blight, The Black Death, had found its way into the common people and soldiers that remained from the battle. They surrendered to us without resistance, and the soldiers of the Imperial Army began to fall ill. Our Basileus, Khristodoulos, visited the men and comforted them in their final hours despite the wishes of his council and the officers of his two companies of bodyguards that accompanied him all the way from Constantinople. He was magnificent, an enlightened warrior emperor who led his forces to victory, and he cared for all of those under his charge, and offered those who wished for it a chance for glory, something we were eternally grateful for. He soon fell ill, his strength fading day by day and eventually he could barely rise from his bed, directing affairs and relaying decrees all the while he was dying, and none were more distraught than his bodyguards, us.
The Spartharii tou Vasileos were the elite of the elite, the protectors of the Emperor's own personage and household, but rarely left the imperial capital, past emperors charging them with defending the beating heart of the empire as they went on campaign against foreign adversaries and ancient rivals. Unfortunately, this left the formation inexperienced in battle as those armies whose task it was to slaughter the empire's enemies and hold/expand the borders were competent in their work, thus we were starved of the chance of testing our mettle against the enemies of the empire, and were needing a renewal in order for us to be effective. Basileus Khristodoulos was that renewal, ordering for two companies to be raised to follow him on campaign. It was the first time the Spartharii went on a campaign into foreign lands, and we were excited and nervous at the prospect of battle against the Ayyubid Sultanate. An Islamic Kingdom on the decline we were at war with, we were to meet up with a up and coming general of an army pushing its way past Damascus and into the Levant towards Jerusalem and the ancient Crusader State holdings, waging a campaign so devastating that the Saracen forces were withdrawing towards Cairo and Alexandria, the latter being the subject of our wrath and conquest. The general died due to assasination by our enemies, and the army he commanded was ordered to hold and secure the territory they have gained, the newly conquered Jerusalem a wondrous boon to our forces, the general delivering the holy city into our hands before his death cemented his place in our histories to come.
We would have to attack the city without overwhelming numbers, but that didn't dissuade our Emperor, and we followed him into battle.
We landed near Alexandria and soon surrounded the city, which contained a substantial force of Saracen warriors, and the heir to the Caliphate himself. Our force was substantial, 20,000 soldiers and cavalry divided into dozens of regiments, all equipped with the best weapons and armor the empire could provide, matching our own in quality and exceeding ours in quantity, as befitting of the Basileus' personal war host. Every man, his armor, weapons and condition was a visible representation of the Emperor as part of his personal host, and he would not have them garbed and clad in rags and lowly maille, but in fine klivanion with lamellae or scales, with large shields and fine spears, lances and swords. He even had a regiment of Alamanoi raised to fight with us, barbarian Germanic mercenaries wearing the best plate armor either they had acquired themselves or provided by the empire's best smiths, whom were now well acquainted with the full plate that the western kingdoms, principalities and nations have begun to utilize in greater number. Something that somewhat irked us at first, as why would the Basileus require Germanic foot knights to fight alongside him when he had fellow countrymen all around him in addition to his elite regiments of bodyguards, but those grievances were soon inconsequential when our siege engines, a pair of new weapons fashioned in Corinth called cannons, broke through the walls, and our host advanced.
We were first, our Emperor charging through the breach as we kept close, a purple cloak riding a wave of white shields with the golden Chi Rho emblazoned on the front into the mass of silver and green of the Saracens, cutting down anyone foolish enough to make an attempt on the Basileus' life while we still drew breath, our exquisite scale and lamellar armor protected us from their slashes and blows, our swords of superlative craftsmanship cleaving through soldier after soldier as we slowly gained a foothold. The battle was fierce. Dozens of us fell in the countercharge made by the foes' elite, the Ghulams with their thick mail and deadly maces and the Mamluks, dismounted and fanatical in the defense of such an important city and their charge, whom I couldn't spot in the melee but knew he was here due to their presence, but we stood proud and strong, and we held the breach long enough for those equipped with spears and swords and large shields to charge in and drive the Saracen soldiers back towards the city center, their armor and arms easily outmatched their Saracen counterparts and we soon took the city, our Emperor triumphant and our warriors blooded and experienced.
The Heir to the Caliphate was found dead at the breach in the walls, being the first to charge our ranks and was cut down after slaying five of our own. A fine warrior, and he had earned the warrior's death he received.
The Alamanoi had proven themselves that day, taking the personal standard of the Heir of the Caliphate in the melee and leading the charge to the city center, slaying hundreds that day alone with ferocity and vigor. They had earned our respect, and we would need their skills to defend our gains, as an army of 50,000 was marching our way, and we only had 17,000 left to defend the city. It was brutal, our forces barely holding on for weeks on end until a new general had taken command of the army in Jerusalem and marched south, forcing the besieging army to confront them outside of Damietta, and being subsequently defeated. The Caliphate was driven further south, Cairo soon falling to our advances, and a peace treaty was signed, and the host of the Basileus soon set off for Constantinople to rearm and replenish our numbers.
We rested at the fortress that Corinth had become for a short time, replenishing the majority of our army there and rearming for the next big campaign, traveling to Constantinople itself to reinforce our formations once the rest of the army was restored to full strength, as only the Queen of Cities held the facilities and support staff qualified enough to train those who would protect the Basileus with their lives, and we were all eager beyond belief for our sovereign's next move. Only those privy to the Basileus' inner circle, us and those of the Imperial Court that traveled with him, knew where our lord had turned his ambitions of conquest towards next. The island of Sicily, the island which our ancestors took from the barbarous Punics and propelled our people into domination of the Mare Nostrum. Now it is the prospective launching point of a future campaign, one that will reunite us with the city that founded our people, our empire. The Eternal City, Rome itself.
To see the dream of Emperor Justinian realized, of Rome in the hands of its rightful owners was our Basileus' drive to succeed, his reason for his diligence and his vigor. But first, it needed to be taken, and we were the force to do it.
We set sail with the Basileus' personal fleet, comprised of hundreds of Lanternas warships, the backbone of most of the fleets flying our flag with forward facing but primitive black powder cannons, but also included a dozen of the newly designed Carracks, a vessel design created by Moorish ship builders in Hispania that, by their own words, could tread the open ocean with ease and without needing resupply for weeks on end, possibly even months, now equipped with the more numerous and improved black powder cannons placed on the sides of the vessel for even more lethality and power. It was based upon the older Caravel vessels that most western powers used for transport and war, and which we had incorporated into our fleets, as we saw the way in which the wind was blowing that in order to remain a top naval power, we must adapt and progress. Our Basileus quickly saw the value of this vessel, and dismissed the multitudes of dromon galley ships that had served for decades, even centuries at this point to make way for these new vessels of war. Now, every fleet was structured around these new warships of powder and steel, as only well trained marines and crew were permitted to serve aboard these new additions of the imperial fleet, and they helped us project power well beyond our borders and areas of influence. They now protected the Emperor himself, and with such an august personage aboard, the fleet was accompanied by two other flotillas of the imperial navy, dozens of warships ready to sink any vessel that comes too close.
We had declared war upon the Sicilians a few months prior to our voyage, the Almohad Sultanate joining in on the side of the Catholics, surprisingly, and our accompanying flotillas had already driven off three groups of Moorish warships that moved to intercept us. The way was clear, and we landed without resistance.
I wished we never did.
As we had defeated the initial Sicilian response and taken the fortress, and the soldiers began to die dozens at a time, our Basileus, in a show of strength not seen by many previous Emperors, rose from his bed, buboes covering his body, legs shaking from the strain of disuse and the weight they now carried, donned his armor and led us on one last attack on the city of Syracuse. It was a somber, but emboldening moment, for we had begun to slip into torpor and despair, for what were we to do while our lord lay dying. Now, although we knew the fate of those with the buboes was death, we had purpose, and an insatiable drive to see the desire of our lord realized before his passing, as a last gift to him for giving us the chance at glory and placing our marks on history.
Weak, but unbowed and invigorated by their Emperor's strength, the imperial host marched on Syracuse, encircling the city. We sent delegates to the Sicilians, offering them safe passage to Italia if they surrendered and handed over Syracuse without resistance. They never returned, and our cannons were soon pounding the walls of the city, creating three different openings for our forces to enter from. Our Emperor chose the one closest to the gatehouse, the ballistae towers having been destroyed by the cannons prior to the advance, and the Spartharii tou Vasileos would give him the city, or die trying. The Alamanoi, along with the bulk of our forces, attacked the other two openings, distracting the main force of Sicilian soldiers, leaving two regiments of dismounted men-at-arms, clad in the best plate and armed with the best weapons the Kingdom of Sicily could offer. We charged, fearless as our Emperor was with us, leading us, and we would win. We had to. We couldn't fail. We wouldn't shame our lord, our sovereign, our Basileus.
It was fierce, bloody and brutal. Two forces, each the best their nation could offer, locked in a slugging match in which the outcome for either depended on their will and endurance. The Sicilians were strong, and were fighting in the defense of their city, their will mighty and daunting. However, despite this, we were stronger, our will greater and our purpose galvanized our fighting spirit into near fanatical levels, and we soon drove them back towards the city center. We broke off the pursuit and charged into the rear of the forces holding back our soldiers at the other two openings, forcing a rout of the Sicilians and allowing our host to fully enter the city and march towards the remaining Sicilians at the city center. What was left of the men-at-arms, the soldiers armed with swords and spears, and ten mounted knights arrayed themselves against the full might of the imperial host. We charged, and we slaughtered them in short order, the commander of the defense being the last to fall.
Our Emperor looked around at the city that he had conquered, at the men that helped make this happen, and he smiled.
His last words to us before he lay in his bed for the rest of his days were thus:
"My soldiers, my kinsmen, I am proud. Proud of all that we have accomplished together. You have followed me from Aegyptus, where we bested the Saracens and took Alexandria and Cairo, to Sicily, where we now stand in Syracuse. You all are the epitome of what is expected of soldiers of the Empire, and I couldn't ask for better men to follow me, to entrust my life to. Your names, and those who have fallen will be remembered for all time," he said. His breath was short and shallow, his body barely holding him upright, but he pressed on regardless.
"Do not grieve for me, for I have led a life that I am content with, and that life includes meeting all of you. Without you all, I would not have accomplished all that I have done for our Empire without your aid, without your courage and sacrifice.
"Thank you, thank you for giving me this moment of glory at the nadir of my life. I am proud."
He stumbled as he turned towards his mount, falling to one knee. I and another guard rushed to his aid, helping him climb atop his horse and accompanying him to his current dwelling within the palace that governed the city, the rest of the imperial guard arrayed themselves throughout the palace, while the army took up positions along the walls and throughout the city. All would stand vigil so that their lord may pass in peace.
The physicians that accompanied the Basileus did their best to ease the suffering of their lord, and their efforts were admirable. Most of those afflicted with the blight were moaning, groaning things of agony, wailing their pain and affliction to the sky before they passed, most often in blood soaked linens and soiled clothing. Not our lord. The Basileus was quiet in his suffering, silently enduring the fate that was thrust upon him with all the dignity expected of a man of his station, his care the best the empire could offer.
He lasted for thirteen more days before he sighed his last.
Now, we proceed towards the fleet anchored nearby, my regiment being the bearers of the body of the Basileus to the ship, the second regiment positioned itself in front and at the rear of my regiment, ensuring that the passage towards the ship wasn't hindered by anything or anyone. It was a slow, austere affair, the Basileus' body clad in his armor, shined and repaired for the occasion, and covered in the purple cloak of the imperial household. Everyone was silent, no one made a sound in their grief and sorrow.
The months-long trip back towards Constantinople was the same as the procession, quiet and somber. No past time joys were partaken in, and everyone distracted themselves in different ways. I stood guard in front of the door that led to the room in which the Basileus' body resided for days on end, sleeping only when I was on the verge of collapse, and once I awoke, resumed my vigil. This continued until we reached the docks of the city, where a massed crowd of onlookers and grieving citizens was waiting. The army made a path through the crowds for the regiments of imperial guards, and we marched towards the palace, silent and unresponsive to the wails and cries of the citizens.
The representatives of the imperial court followed behind, along with the regiments of the imperial host, then by the crowds. The walk to the Imperial Palace seemed to last a lifetime to me and to those around me. We were met with the rest of the Imperial Court, the BasÃlissa and the imperial family, two sons and a daughter, and representatives of those allied to the empire. I could see that the leaders of the Cuman Khanate, the Republic of Novgorod, and the Kingdom of Norway were here in person, friends to the late Basileus, the only allies that the empire could count on to be reliable and steadfast against their shared enemies.
The burial ceremony that took place within the Hagia Sophia passed in a blur, and the eldest son, in front of the entirety of the Imperial Court, the Imperial Family, and all those of high importance was crowned Basileus of the Empire of the Romans, protector of the realm that stretched from Baghdad in the east, to Sicily in the west, from Caffa in the north, to Cairo in the south, leader of the greatest armies and fleets in the known world, and ruler of the greatest empire the world would ever know.
We were the first to swear our oaths of loyalty to him, to see him protected, his throne secure, his ambitions realized and his enemies crushed. Now and forever.
Long live the Emperor!
